Lesbian, gay and bisexual youth are more than twice as likely to attempt to kill themselves than their heterosexual peers.(Photo: Chris Caldwell / The Spectrum & Daily News)

According to River Beatty's obituary, a 22-year-old Southern Utahn who committed suicide in May, she was transitioning from male to female and was "antagonized" throughout her life because she struggled with her gender identity.

One 15-year-old Californian in the LDS faith was sent to St. George in 2011 by her parents who believed her homosexuality could be cured with treatment. Alex Cooper, coauthor of "Saving Alex," was subjected to emotional and physical abuse at an unlicensed treatment center run by fellow Mormons who "used faith to punish and terrorize her." She was subjected to emotional and physical abuse, including being forced to face a wall while wearing a backpack full of rocks for extended periods of time.

These few of many examples show just how dangerous it is, still, to identify as LGBT in the United States, not only because hate crimes and speech are rampant, but also because LGBT individuals are often a danger to even themselves.

LGB youth are more than twice as likely to attempt to kill themselves than their heterosexual peers, according to the Centers for Disease Control, while youth who identify as transgender are 8 times more likely to attempt suicide with parent rejection.

Members of the Southern Utah LGBT community report facing issue after issue, but perhaps the most important question is: Are we willing to lose our children over this?

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John Meisner, of Southern Utah University's Allies on Campus group, was raised in a conservative, Fundamental Baptist home during the notorious AIDS crisis in the 80s.

It was a tumultuous time in American history, and it was a time during which Meisner said he felt terrified, especially knowing that he was gay. He heard both subtle and explicit messages that LGBT individuals were "horrible, evil, possessed and pedophiles."

Youth who identify as transgender are 8 times more likely to attempt suicide if their parents reject them.(Photo: Chris Caldwell / The Spectrum & Daily News)

"It's just a bewildering experience," Meisner said. "Personally, the way I think I survived was creating an alternate identity. I doubt that's unusual."

But Meisner didn't come out until 2012, and he had reached what he described as his midlife crisis. Meisner's midlife crisis wasn't just an issue of self-confidence that could be fixed with a new car or an odd-ball hobby: Meisner began planning his suicide.

"Once the hope of getting 'fixed' was gone, it got really bad," Meisner said. "There used to be hope that someday God would save me, and I just had to wait for that miraculous day to arrive. Once I realized that day was never coming, I knew there was no way out."

It was when Meisner realized he wasn't getting fixed because he wasn't broken that he fully accepted his authentic self, to which he gives much credit to his friends and colleagues, but he valued the acceptance from his children and ex-wife the most.

“It's just a bewildering experience. Personally, the way I think I survived was creating an alternate identity.”

John Meisner

"If there was very much negative stuff said about me (when I came out), I don't know of it," he said.

He's since developed a sense of "extreme urgency" to do more to unveil facts about LGBT youth suicides, specifically finding statistics that better reflect the Southern Utah community — which Meisner said he believes the rates are "catastrophic."

Meisner's story is not unique, and for Hunter Schone, a Southern Utah native, his experiences with shame and isolation were similar.

Schone, who grew up in Utah and recently moved to London to work on a graduate degree in neuroscience, came out to his parents when he was 16 years old.

Schone's family lived in St. George at the time, and they remain an example of a strong LDS family in the community. Schone said he grappled with knowing he was breaking the expectations his family had of him while also trying to live a life true to his identity.

What people didn't see past Schone's apparent charming, comfortable life was that it was in fact a living hell, he said.

It's a phenomenon Schone says he encounters with every LGBT person he's met who grew up in the LDS faith: These youth go through an internal dichotomy that creates a whole slew of psychological issues.

LGBT youth are the most targeted of their peers for hate crimes.(Photo: Chris Caldwell / The Spectrum & Daily News)

"They have this really real love for the church and experiences they have in that, but at the same time, there's something so real about being gay and identifying as gay or lesbian that brings so much happiness in their lives," Schone said.

Schone did not date until years after he came out to his parents, and he said he felt shameful about it. He was attending Brigham Young University as an undergrad when he went on what he considers his first real date.

Later, while still attending BYU, he came out to his roommates with whom he shared an apartment in BYU-approved student housing. At first, Schone said his roommates displayed acceptance and support, but they later filed a complaint with the university's honor code office and had Schone evicted with no notice.

“In the church, there's this message of love, but there's also this subliminal message of homophobia.”

Hunter Schone

"They provided textual evidence that I was in a gay relationship," Schone said. "My roommates had texts from our group of me basically saying I was with my boyfriend at certain times that we were dating."

True to his intelligent, disciplined nature in his education and title of "Most Likely to be President" he garnered in high school, Schone worked tirelessly for 20 months on original academic research that was soon to be published.

But while Schone's honor code violation was being investigated, he was quickly informed that his research contract with the university was terminated indefinitely.

The published research, of which he was encouraged he'd be named an author of, only listed Schone as a contributor in the end.

"The honor code office intervened into discussions about the investigation with my research supervisor, without my approval, which made things obscenely difficult and awkward, and it ultimately destroyed my two-year relationship with my research supervisor," Schone said.

Schone was permanently suspended from the university.

"In the church, there's this surface-level message of love, but there's also this subliminal message of homophobia," he said.

Suicide crossed Schone's mind frequently following the incident at BYU. To him, it seemed like a sound, logical decision rather than an emotional one.

"To live a life that was gay was worse than killing myself," Schone said. "I thought it would be better for me to kill myself rather than come out to my family, tell them I'm gay, and live a life contrary to what God wanted me to live."

Schone said he guesses there are thousands of LGBT youth in the LDS faith who are trying to be good Christians, and yet he said their church doesn't always do enough to take care of them.

"Mormon legislators aren't going to put an investigation on why we're losing all these kids," he said. "They're not willing to do that and lead it back to the church they go to every Sunday."

St. George residents hold a Pride Celebration at Vernon Worthen Park after two high school students rallied the support of local LGBTQIA leaders Saturday, June 25, 2016. (Photo: Chris Caldwell / The Spectrum & Daily News)

Meisner explained how many youth in Utah feel, which is that they'll never live up to the expectations of their parents, religion and communities.

"I was told explicitly just last week, 'You need to live a celibate, solo life,'" Meisner said. "I didn't grow up Mormon, but the expectations are exactly the same thing."

It's not uncommon for families to avoid the topic altogether, and sometimes, Meisner said, the families have to "come out" as well in the wake of a child's death via suicide.

"They're placed in an awkward situation of coming out on behalf of the dead child as well as coming out as a family," Meisner said. "When you throw in all the stigma on top of it, which is probably why the person committed suicide in the first place, now the family is dealing with that stigma as well."

"My concern is how we accidentally and inadvertently traumatize and victimize our own children," he added. "What parents don't realize is that we are talking about their own children. When we're talking about a family and their kids, I feel like that supersedes politics and religion. We forget we're really talking about our own kids."

Mike Carr, the homeless student liaison at Washington County School District, said he doesn't know exactly how many homeless LGBT students he oversees, but he knows they exist. Most have been ostracized and later kicked out of their homes by their parents.

(Photo: Jennifer Kennedy / For The Spectrum & Daily News)

Part of the problem, though, is their existence is known only if the student comes forward — which can be frightening, he said.

"It's a combination of the students both not wanting people to know they're homeless and not wanting anyone to know they're LGBT," Carr said.

Ultimately, the message of real, unconditional love is what's missing in so many youthful LGBT lives. Meisner said the message of "I love you no matter what," is essential in any household, and he said it seems like the most powerful thing in the world to him.

"I need you to love the LGBT youth," Schone added. "I need someone to love them and tell them they're enough because that was something no one ever gave me. Spending so many years of people telling me I was not enough, to me, pride is the community and the world telling me that I am."